Annalie and I are back at my Aunt Julie’s house for a few days, which means I have not been online much lately. We are here because my mom is back in California for an unexpected visit. No, you’re not going crazy; yes, she did just go home a couple of weeks ago. But she decided to come back because her youngest brother, the black sheep of the family whom we hardly ever see, is in intensive care at a local hospital. It’s pretty serious. We don’t really know what’s going to happen with him, and my mom decided she would regret it if the worst were to happen and she never got to say good-bye. I don’t really want to talk too much about it because it’s a tricky situation. Everyone knows how family can be, right? How they can drive you absolutely crazy and make you swear you’re never speaking to so-and-so again, but then when it comes right down to it, they’re still family? Yeah. It’s one of those things.

Anyway. Despite the less-than-happy reasons for the visit, we have been having a good time. Yesterday we hung out at my Uncle Bill and Aunt Kathy’s house with assorted relatives and friends. We swam in the pool and had dinner on the patio. The kids chased each other around and ate popsicles while the adults had coffee. The sky grew dark and we were treated to a beautiful full moon rising as the colored lights came on around the yard. It was great.

My Uncle Bill loves 1950s- and 1960s-era antiques and cars. He and my Aunt Kathy have been antique dealers on and off for years, but mostly he just collects for pure enjoyment. In their old house, he had renovated a freestanding garage in their backyard so it was like walking into a little apartment from the past! The bed, the TV, the chairs and table, the oven, the fridge, the dishes in the tiny kitchen—everything in that room was from another era. And the best part was, they used it! That little garage was their guest house. When they moved, I was so sad that the guest house was no more.

In the house where they’ve lived for the past ten years Bill has slowly, bit by bit, been filling up the pool house with exactly the right items to turn it into a retro diner of sorts. There is a high counter with a slushie machine and an industrial coffeemaker, and off to the side there is a bright green 7-Up fridge and a hot-dog machine, the kind that has the rollers for cooking the hot dogs. When they have parties at their house, the pool fills up with people and the pool house is busy with people helping themselves to slushies and hot dogs.

When my cousin’s kids Derek and Desiree are over there, they use the pool house as their own personal pretend restaurant. They even printed up “menus” that they keep in a menu rack by the front door. Derek named it Bob’s Eat-It-All! (Bob is their dad, and he’s a restaurant manager. Like father like son, I guess!) Yesterday while we boring adults ate our grinders at the table on the patio, Derek and Desiree and Annalie had hot dogs and chips and pop at Bob’s Eat-It-All.

From what I could see and hear, they were having a blast. Derek was busily rushing back and forth between the house and the Eat-It-All with cans of 7-Up and hot dogs and straws. He has always been fascinated by food and cooking—when he was 3 years old his favorite video in the world was the instructional video that came with his grandma’s Cuisinart—and I would not be at all surprised if he follows in his dad’s footsteps and ends up working in the food-service industry somehow. There are a LOT of people in this family who have worked as cooks and owned and managed restaurants.

I said something to Bill about how great it was that he was letting the kids play in the pool house, when so many people would be worried about them breaking something. He said, “Well, I don’t want them to grow up remembering their crabby old uncle who never let them touch anything at his house! Besides, it’s just stuff. It’s meant to be used, and it can always be replaced.” I wish my attitude towards my considerably less-cool, less-valuable stuff was as good.